Friday, 28 November 2014

I finally decided to sit down and have a look at my 2014 posts, to decide which one I'd like to submit to Mel's Creme de la Creme as the post that has "words that have moved another
person or ideas that have kicked off a series of musings." A best post, in effect. I hope you're all doing the same - I can't wait to see your contributions to the Creme de la Creme.

I decided to be systematic about it, so drew up a Long List. (Yes, I'll never win the Man Booker Prize, or even be on its Long List, but I can pretend!) As I drew up my list, it surprised me how quickly the year had gone, and how prolific I had been at the beginning of the year. I knew immediately when I cam to the post that would be my Creme de la Creme submission. Perhaps you will know too. Or maybe you can guess?

But for what it's worth, I thought I'd list my Long List, starting with the oldest posts first:

Monday, 24 November 2014

I was busy being an aunt this time last week, travelling north to go to a dance recital (and to support my sister who is launching her photography business). It was lovely. I do envy you if you have nieces and nephews who live close by, though I know too that I'm lucky to have a niece at all. Still, when I visit, it is a Big Deal in a way it probably wouldn't be if I lived just around the corner. Both DH and I got to read bed-time stories, and I got to take her to school one morning too. Though that morning, when she got in bed with me to chat, her main concern was whether I knew where to go! I look forward to when she is older, and can come visit on her own (though with some trepidation too).

Wednesday, 19 November 2014

An overdue get-together, my friend arrived and we kissed hello on the cheeks. She then proceeded to apologise for being late - her family had a nit alert.

"Nits?'' I recoiled, taking an involuntary step back.

Just the night before, my husband and I had watched an episode of Modern Family, in which Lilly had nits and was used as a secret weapon against a much-disliked acquaintance. Her father had fended her off - like a lion tamer - with a floor lamp. I was tempted to do the same with my friend.

Another friend, her children now grown, flatly refused to assist our potentially nit-ridden friend to begin the de-lousing process, so I didn't feel so guilty about my display of abject horror.

Monday, 10 November 2014

Recently I’ve had occasion to see someone behaving how I
always wanted them to behave, rather than how the past had led me to believe they
would behave (in a particular circumstance). It has made me very happy, and so pleased
that I can upgrade my opinion of this person.

It has also made me think of the friendships and
relationships that are lost and scarred by infertility. Too often I read
someone writing that they have cut someone out of their life, because of the
way they behaved. Sometimes this may be warranted – I can’t judge relationships
that don’t include me – and I admit that a downgrading of relationship status is often
necessary to protect ourselves at a time when we are very vulnerable.

But I do want
to suggest that we should leave some connection open, however tenuous.
They just might surprise us one day, and I wouldn’t want any of us to miss out
on a relationship that once was, and can be again, good in our lives.

Sunday, 9 November 2014

A continuing theme I read in other IF or No Kidding
blogs is the shock of having to deal with failure. I’ve written about this
before, but I always think it is worth it to revisit it, for the benefit of new
readers, or to remind old readers (and myself) to practise some
self-compassion.

So many of us believed that if we worked hard we’d
achieve what we wanted. There is still a theme of this amongst IF blogs, both
amongst those who had their children (“we stuck at it,” “never give up,” “I
knew I’d never give up” (how can you possibly know that?), “my faith will
deliver,” and other slightly superior/judgemental statements). Or perhaps we
grew up in the “girls can do anything” age, and truly believed that we could
have it all. Or maybe we grew up being told we were "special" and we believed that meant we could have whatever it was we wanted..

Now, with hindsight, I look at people who say, “if
you work hard enough, you can achieve anything.” They’re always the ones who
were lucky enough to achieve whatever is their anything. Yes, they may well have achieved
their goal through hard work, but hard work alone doesn’t do it. You’ll
hear others – particularly in the IF community – refer to “wanting it enough.”
Wanting something, even coupled with hard work, doesn’t do it either. I really
hate hearing the implication in that statement that perhaps I don’t have
children because I didn’t want it enough. Or maybe my friends here didn’t “want
it enough.” I completely dispute that.

The truth is that achieving anything in life is so
often by chance - genetic, parental, circumstantial, geographic, and many other
circumstances that aid or hinder us in our goals. Working hard, whilst it is good,
isn’t going to overcome other problems that occur by chance (or genetics). We
need luck, finances, energy, good health, talent, looks, speed, strength or a
high IQ (or a combination of some or all of these) to be in our favour, as well
as hard work (or wanting something, or believing in it) to get what we want. Example:
I’m not pretty. I have to work at looking presentable, but I’ll never be
beautiful. Chance. I’m tall and athletic, and was a talented netballer when I
was young. Chance. I wasn’t tall enough to represent my country though. That
wasn’t going to be alleviated through hard work. Chance. I have a high IQ. I
can learn things easily. That’s not through hard work. It’s pure chance, in the
same way that my eyes are green. And I feel it is less praiseworthy than
someone who works hard to learn something that I would pick up quickly. How is
that different to fertility and infertility?

And as we all know, being fertile has nothing to do
with working hard or wanting something enough. We all hear of people
accidentally getting pregnant when they’re using contraception. And we all know
(or are those people) who have gone without contraception for ten years, tried
ten rounds of IVF, and still never conceived. But likewise, conceiving through
fertility treatments isn’t a result of hard work or even perseverance. Sure,
some people might say that they’d never have had their children if they’d
stopped after one cycle of IVF. That might be true. Others say – after having
their children – that they would have done anything to get them. But they don’t
know that, because they weren’t forced to follow through. Still others know
that they could have done 20 cycles and never conceived. Wanting it enough and
hard work aren’t always going to reward us with the result we want.

Still, it is hard to change the habits of a
lifetime, and stop believing that we’ll get what we want simply because we want
it, or because we have tried and tried and tried, because we have worked so
hard to the exclusion of all else. So we berate ourselves, we feel like failures, and we find that hard to cope with. That’s why I really dislike the word
failure in the fertility context. It brings a degree of judgement, as if it is a failure of character,
or effort, or virtue. Being infertile simply is - as much as the colour of our hair,
or whether or not we wear glasses, or how athletic we are - part of who we are.
It’s not a failure.

Most importantly, it doesn’t mean I am a failure
either. Because I am not. Neither are you. Far from it. Knowing this intellectually is one
thing. Accepting it emotionally is another. But it is possible to get there. Accepting that I wasn’t a failure, that the outcome really wasn’t my fault, helped me go a long
way towards accepting not only my no kidding lifestyle, but other things that
have happened in my life since.

I accepted I’d never be beautiful a long time ago.
I have also accepted I’ll never have children. Neither of those are my fault.
Neither of those make me a failure. However much society tries to make us think that.

Monday, 3 November 2014

One of the kindest, most giving women I know endured at least 18 miscarriages and one ectopic pregnancy. Somewhere in the midst of those losses, she had her daughter. (She's the one person I feel can use the term miracle pregnancy.) And in the midst of those losses, she gave her heart and soul to helping other women going through losses. There are hundreds if not thousands of us who owe so much to her, and to another friend, who - like me - couldn't have children but helped and comforted those who were still trying. She was then hit by a nasty illness that is now chronic, painful, and sometimes debilitating. Life hasn't been kind to either of these women. Yet they both still give, still care, and both still have wicked or wacky senses of humour, taking joy in life. I thought of them this week as I saw other people - including one most dear to me - go through difficult times and yet maintain their humanity. They teach, even when they don't know it.

"Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let the
pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness."

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About Me

This is my blog on living and loving life without children after infertility. Currently I'm a blogger, a self-employed businessperson, amateur photographer, and traveller.

I blog on A Separate Life about my everyday life, but this is a space for thoughts on my No Kidding lifestyle, the good and the bad, remembering what was lost, and celebrating what I have.

My husband and I are the stereotypical couple without children who love to travel. I am (at) travellingMali on Instagram and there I post photos of various trips internationally, past and present, and of NZ travels, along with the occasional photos from where I live.

In 2013 I travelled in Europe and the Middle East for five months, and kept a blog at Lemons to Limoncello.

I also had a travelblog some years ago, but stopped posting in 2012, which you can see at Mali's Travelalphablog. I'm hoping to start a travel blog again, so watch this space!